


Soar (Into My Heart)

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Gryffindor Keith (Voltron), Hufflepuff Shiro (Voltron), M/M, Orphan Keith (Voltron), Pining, Quidditch, Quidditch player Shiro, Romance, Seekers Games, Seventh Year Shiro, Shiro is a Dept. of Mysteries Nerd, Sixth Year Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 19:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17048897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: A story in which Shiro and Keith play Seekers Games. Keith never catches the snitch but somehow he still feels like he's winning.The sun is particularly bright for September, and it glints off Shiro’s Head Boy badge as Shiro wraps his Hufflepuff scarf more securely around his neck. Warmth prickles at Keith’s face as Shiro smiles, and Keith feels his walls slipping already.Shiro’s cheeks are pink from the chill in the air, his lips wind-chapped and his hair a disaster. He looks ruffled and happy in a way that makes Keith's chest ache. Sometimes Keith finds Shiro so attractive it actually makes him mad. No one person has the right to be all the things Shiro is—handsome, kind, smart, talented, giving—it’s not fair to the rest of the world. It’s not fair to Keith.





	Soar (Into My Heart)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [restlessandordinary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlessandordinary/gifts).



> This is a birthday fic for restlessandordinary who is one of my very favorite people. Rachel, I started this fic for you and even after Season 8 broke my heart remembering all the good times we've shared over Sheith and Harry Potter gave me the strength to finish this. I hope you like it!
> 
> For plot reasons in this, Keith is a sixth year and Shiro is a Seventh Year.
> 
> All the love and thanks to Zeitgeistic for beta reading this even though she doesnt ship Sheith. <3

Keith’s got one foot in the air already, ready to turn on his other heel and bolt, when Shiro spots him from the distance. Keith doesn’t have time to plan his excuses or make a hasty escape, not with Shiro leaning down against the handle of his Firebolt and zipping across the pitch fast as lightning. He didn’t get the nickname Speedster Shiro for nothing. His prowess on a broom was legendary, his speed and deftness unrivaled. Which was precisely why Hufflepuff was likely going to win the house cup again like they had every year since Shiro had made the house team in first year. Youngest seeker to make the house team in over a century. He’d even been made captain in his fourth year despite the majority of the team being seventh years at that point. Shiro was the golden boy not only of Hufflepuff but of Hogwarts—as smart as he was talented and twice as kind.

Keith couldn’t even resent Shiro for being so well liked or so popular because there wasn’t a person alive who disliked Shiro. Keith included.

He couldn't even find it in himself to be mad when Shiro gave him detention last week on their first night back at the castle. Technically, Keith had been out of bed after hours. Shiro had tried so hard not to give him detention, giving Keith every opportunity to explain what exactly it was he’d been doing out of bed and halfway to the Forbidden Forest at half past midnight. Keith wasn’t about to tell Shiro he wanted to check on the wolf cubs he’d found at the end of his fifth year just before term ended last year. So, instead, he’d simply stood there refusing to speak. Shiro had sighed, looking pained as he’d given Keith detention.

Watching him on a broom is a revelation, the wind whipping through his hair, the shock of white sticking up in the front—a casualty of a hex gone wrong in fourth year that none of the professors, not even Headmaster Iverson, had been able to fix. His robes flap around him as he zips towards Keith in less time than it would take most people to apparate across the pitch. Well if Apparition were allowed at Hogwarts.

Keith’s heart hammers in his chest as Shiro pulls his broom up to a dead stop mere inches from Keith, hopping off it with a kind of grace and elegance that leaves Keith breathless. Shiro flies as if he were born to do it—as if he were meant to be among the clouds and stars and not with his feet on the ground.

“What’re you doing out here?” Shiro asks, broad hands wrapping around the end of his broom gifting Keith with a smile as if it cost him nothing.

“It’s my free period. I don’t have classes. I’m not doing anything wrong being out here,” Keith says, hunching his shoulders and mentally bemoaning the fact that school robes don’t have pockets. He settles for crossing his arms across his chest, unable to leave them hanging in the air uselessly.

“Didn’t think you were,” Shiro says kindly.

“Good, because I’m not.”

Keith hates himself for being so prickly, but he’s still not quite settled back into Hogwarts and his defenses are still high from another summer spent with people who hate him, hiding who he is, and months spent unable to talk to the one person in the world who makes him feel as if who is he is isn’t a bad thing: Shiro.

Luckily for Keith, Shiro is well-versed in Keith’s moods. Especially his _freshly back to school I forgot how to be friendly_ mood which often takes him at least a fortnight to break out of.

“So then what are you doing out here, Kogane?” Shiro smiles again as he knocks his broom playfully into Keith’s shoulder.

Keith’s heart rattles in his chest at the deep rumble of his last name falling from Shiro’s lips. He hears his name a lot, both at Hogwarts and at the orphanage.

_Kogane!!!_

_Kogane, stop that!_

_Kogane, what’s wrong with you?_

_Kogane, can’t you follow the rules?_

_Kogane, stop being a nuisance._

_Detention tonight, Kogane._

_Kogane, I’m so disappointed in you._

_Kogane, you’re capable of so much more. Don’t you want to apply yourself?_

It’s different when Shiro says it though. Shiro’s the only person who says it like that, with a type of kindness Keith isn’t sure he deserves.

Keith knows exactly what most people think of him. _Troublemaker. Loner. Difficult. Brash. Impulsive. Hot tempered._ And Keith can’t even be mad, because it’s true. He is all of those things. It’s just, sometimes he thinks he’s more than the sum of his actions. Or at least he wants to be.

“I just wanted to go for a walk,” Keith says, and it’s not entirely a lie. He had wanted to walk. To see Shiro. But he leaves that last part off.

Shiro hums noncommittally, rapping his fingers on the end of his broom. “You always go for walks when no one else is around?”

“You’re around,” Keith blurts out before he can think twice. Shiro smiles. “What are you doing out here anyway?”

Technically, as Head Boy, Shiro can pretty much go anywhere he wants. He’s not under any obligation to explain what he’s doing to Keith, a sixth year Gryffindor who has spent more of the last year few years in detention than in class. If Keith were Head Boy he’d be using it to his advantage every chance he got, which is precisely why there isn’t a single universe in which anyone would ever put Keith in charge. The fact that Shiro doesn't abuse his power has kept Keith up at night more than once wondering about the type of guy Shiro is, or how its possible to be so fucking kind and fair and open all the bloody time. He supposes maybe that’s exactly why Shiro got made Head Boy.

“Ah, you caught me,” Shiro says, eyes twinkling with mirth. “I have a revision period this afternoon so do me a favor and don’t tell anyone I was flying instead. Professor Slav will have my head if he finds out I’m not using this period to do extra revision on my paper about parallel dimensions and time travel using timeturners and the veil.”

“How’s that coming along anyway?” Keith asks, knowing Shiro has been interested in interdimensional travel for longer than he’s known Keith. The Ministry claims that type of interdimensional travel doesn’t exist, but based on the number of books Shiro has hidden in his trunk and his subscription to the _Quibbler,_ Keith’s got it on good authority that somewhere in the Department of Mysteries is a way to travel between worlds.

“Well I don’t have any proof, but my research leads me to believe that in another dimension we’re best friends who fight aliens in giant space robots,” Shiro deadpans.

“Aliens and space robots?” Keith repeats, eyebrow raised.

“Space robots,” he says again, lips thinned in a smile that makes him look younger than his seventeen years.

Keith snorts. “You’re such a bullshitter.”

Shiro shrugs his shoulders looking as if he were fighting back a laugh. “Hey, it could be true. Just promise not to tell anyone, yeah?”

“I won’t tell,” Keith says, unsure if Shiro means about the space robots or the flying, but knowing he wouldn’t tell a soul about either.

The sun is particularly bright for September, and it glints off Shiro’s Head Boy badge as Shiro wraps his Hufflepuff scarf more securely around his neck. Warmth prickles at Keith’s face as Shiro smiles, and Keith feels his walls slipping already.

Shiro’s cheeks are pink from the chill in the air, his lips wind-chapped and his hair a disaster. He looks ruffled and happy in a way that makes Keith's chest ache. Sometimes Keith finds Shiro so attractive it actually makes him mad. No one person has the right to be all the things Shiro is—handsome, kind, smart, talented, giving—it’s not fair to the rest of the world. It’s not fair to Keith.

Keith, who finds his ability to keep the fact that he fancies Shiro more than just a little bit under wraps with every passing year. In first year, it was simple admiration. That was easy enough to ignore. Shiro was a year older than him and already on his house team and so well liked it’d been impossible not to admire him. He was everything Keith wasn’t—talented, smart, a _real_ Quidditch player and most importantly, universally liked. And, alright, perhaps Keith had been just a little bit jealous of him too but that had slipped away easily enough the more Keith watched him. It had been hard to resent Shiro from afar when he was so likable, and damn near impossible once Keith got to know him.

In Keith’s second year, the admiration had turned to a very slight infatuation. Shiro’d had a growth spurt and was heads taller than Keith, his black hair a wild mess, especially after flying, and his smile was as bright as ever. If possible, he’d become even more popular that year.

By third year when Shiro was more than someone Keith merely watched from a distance. No, he was standing up for Keith when he got picked on or stepping into fights that, strictly speaking, Keith had started. He was constantly to try to save Keith’s arse, and quite suddenly it became something Keith didn’t have a name for. Not jealousy or admiration or infatuation, but something more. Something he didn’t want to try to identify because that felt too close admitting Shiro meant something to him at all— _too real_. So instead he’d grumbled and fought even more, lashing out at anyone and everyone that year, including Shiro. In a fit of rage, after being denied a spot on the Gryffindor house Quidditch team, Keith had even stole Shiro’s new Firebolt and tried to fly it into Hogsmeade. Luckily for Keith, Shiro had been the one to find him—and not Iverson. Except instead of Shiro telling the headmaster or a prefect, he’d invited Keith flying.

By fourth year he knew what it was, even if he wasn’t quite brave enough to admit it. _Friendship._ He hadn’t wanted to admit it, not when admitting how he felt about Shiro meant that Shiro meant something to him period. Because if Shiro meant something to him then it meant Keith could lose him, just like he’d lost everything else in his life that had ever mattered to him.

And then came the Fifth year. Fifth year had been a fucking revelation with the stress of owls and his burgeoning sexual awareness as he realised that daydreaming about Shiro’s laugh and smile and what his hands might feel like slipping beneath Keith’s favorite red knitted jumper was not something everyone else did. He’d not handled the reality that he had feelings for his closest friend—his only friend—well. He hadn’t been at all comfortable with the dawning realisation that he liked Shiro more than Shiro, or probably anyone else, would ever like him.

In light of his daunting revelation, Keith had promised himself that sixth year would be different. He wasn’t going to keep secretly mooning about and he wasn’t going to do anything stupid. He was going to keep his head down and get through the last year Shiro would be at school with him and then when Shiro left Hogwarts— _left Keith_ —well then his life would go back to the way it’d been before he came to Hogwarts and the way he knew it would be when he left—lonely.

“See you later then,” Keith says, already turning around ready to walk away.

“Keith!” Shiro yells, sprinting after him. He catches up easily with his stupidly long legs and Keith releases the breath he’d been holding when Shiro’s hand comes down to rest on his shoulder. “Keith,” he says again, softer this time.

Keith swallows before spinning around. Shiro drops his hand to his side and Keith misses the weight of it immediately.

“I’ll be out here every Friday. If, you know, you ever wanted to come for a walk this way again. I wouldn’t mind the company you know, it’d be nice.” He says it as if Keith would be doing him a favor.

“Thought you needed to practice your flying.”

“I do. What better way to practice than with the best flyer I know.”

He can’t believe Shiro means _him_. Except Shiro never lies. Of course, that doesn't actually make Keith the best flyer Shiro knows, it only means that’s what Shiro perceives to be the truth, but it warms him just the same.

Keith can think of a million-and-one excuses for not flying with Shiro. He can think of even more reasons to tell Shiro that Keith isn’t the best anything. He can think of a whole list of reasons why spending as much time with Shiro during Shiro’s last year is going to make his eventual leaving about a hundred times harder on Keith, and therefore a monumentally bad idea. Problem is, despite all the reasons to say no there’s one very big reason to say yes— _Shiro_.

“I don’t have a broom,” is all he says, kicking the grass with his trainers. Which is the truth. Or most of it anyway. Keith might lie, but he doesn’t lie to Shiro. Omit the truth, sure. Refuse to talk, definitely. But never an actual lie.

He’d never had enough money to buy his own broom and even if he had, there’d be no point since, aside from those on the house team, most of the students never got any opportunities to fly. Keith feels it is radically unfair gatekeeping practices on Hogwarts part to only offer flying lessons to first years and then make the pitch available to those on the house team. Everyone else is shit out of luck and Keith hates it. It isn’t fair. Of course, nothing in life ever is.

 

“I’m pretty sure I can handle that,” Shiro says, with the kind of conviction that makes Keith believe him.

 

**_________**

 

 

“It’s nice today,” Shiro says a week later, as he holds out a broom to Keith. His broom.

They’re standing in the center of the pitch. Shiro’s scarf and robes have been removed, leaving him standing before Keith in nothing but a pair of jeans and a thin purple jumper. It’s a bold choice, but if anyone could pull it off, it would be Shiro. Keith’s fingers itch with the urge to reach out and see if it's as soft as it looks.

When Keith doesn’t take the broom, Shiro sighs and waggles it in front of him. “Take it, it’s yours now.”

Keith narrows his eyes, refusing to reach for it. “I don’t want charity.”

Shiro rolls his eyes looking exasperated. “It’s not charity. If it makes you feel better, you can give it back to me later.”

“What are you gonna fly if I use yours?” he asks, already pulling his hands out of the pockets of his jeans. He abandoned his robe the moment he got to the pitch. It's unseasonably warm for mid-September and Keith wants to take full advantage of it. His Gryffindor tie is thrown atop his school robes, as well. Beside them is Shiro’s robes and tie. Keith likes the way they look side by side.

“This,” Shiro says looking smug as he lifts his wand and whispers Accio.

Keith raises his eyebrows in question but a minute later there’s a whooshing sound before Shiro holds up his hand and a shiny new Voltron 5000 slams into his hand. Keith recognizes it immediately. He’d seen adverts in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies when he’d gone shopping before term, seen the ripped-out advert peeking out of Shiro’s satchel weeks ago.

“Where in the actual fuck did you get that? Quality Quidditch isn’t putting those up or sale for another fortnight!” Keith doesn’t even bother trying to hide his surprise or jealousy. The broom in Shiro’s hand is a thing of beauty—dark cherry wood, glittering gold letter across the handle, and footholds made of actual 10-carat goblin-crafted gold.

Shiro grins so big his nose crinkles up adorably. “Got them to send it to me early.”

Keith exhales a shuddering breath, reaching out to stroke his fingers across the smooth finish on the handle. The magic thrums beneath his fingertips. The broom is from the maker of the Firebolt, said to be twice as fast and ten times as expensive. He heard a rumor just last week that Puddlemere United had already put in an order in for seven. “ _How?_ ”

“Might’ve possibly told them I would be more likely to accept their offer if I could test out the new broom for myself.”

“Offer—wait _what_?” Keith asks, dropping his hand and staring at Shiro in surprise.

“I’ve been dying to tell you all summer but I know you can't get owls at the orphanage and then when we got back you just seemed—” Shiro stops, chewing on his bottom lip. “I wanted to tell you at the right time.”

“Tell me what exactly?”

“Puddlemere United sent me a preliminary offer, contingent on me getting enough NEWTs, of course. Not that I need the NEWTs to play, but I think they’re worried if they don’t add that in, the Headmaster will stop letting them come scout. Can you believe it, Keith? I’ll get to fly _for real_. Well, not that flying here isn’t real, but you know. Just imagine it. Me, flying for Puddlemere!”

Keith swallows. He can imagine it. Shiro’s flying is unparalleled. He’s a natural, born to fly and born to be a part of a team. He can quite clearly imagine Shiro decked out in robes of blue with adoring fans screaming his name as Shiro leads his team to victory.

As proud as he is of Shiro, the idea of Shiro already planning for his future outside of Hogwarts when it’s only September stings in a way Keith hadn’t expected.

“Congratulations,” he says, reaching out to take Shiro’s old broom which he’s holding out again.

“Thanks. It’ll be great. Even better when you leave Hogwarts and try out for the team, too. Can you imagine you and me flying together, Keith? It would be brilliant.”

Keith blinks. “I’m not trying out for Puddlemere. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Keith can recall with complete clarity the one and only time he’d confessed his desire to play Quidditch.

He’d been sick and cranky and Shiro had shown up outside the Gryffindor portrait with a mug of hot cocoa and a tray of biscuits. Keith thought the house elves were probably as fond of Shiro as everyone else since he’d never known anyone else who could weasel food out of them the way Shiro could. But since it often meant that Keith got to benefit from the elves apparent desire to plaster Shiro with sweets and food, he didn't mind. Especially not when he was sick.

That’d been nine months ago, and Keith thought perhaps Shiro had forgotten, but obviously not.  
Shiro shakes his head, throwing his arm around Keith and nudging him out to the center of the pitch. “You and I both know you’re one of the best flyers at Hogwarts. The only reason you’re not on the team is because—”

“Because no one likes me. Because I don’t play well with others. Because I’m not good enough. Because I—” he means it to be a joke but he’s clearly not fooled Shiro because almost immediately he’s cut off by Shiro removing his arm from his shoulder and moving to stand in front of him.

“Because you doubt yourself. You’re capable of anything you put your mind to, Keith.” Shiro’s voice is laced with sincerity.

“Flying is your dream, not mine,” he says. It’s the first time he’s lied to Shiro. “I’m only here because I didn’t have anything else to do.”

Shiro nods, taking a step back as his lips thin into a straight line. “Right. Well come on, let's get up in the air then before you do have something better to do.”

There’s no sarcasm in his voice, he’s merely repeating Keith’s words back to him, so Keith isn’t sure why it hurts so much.

 

**_________**

 

 

“I wasn’t sure you were gonna come today,” Keith says, letting the handful of grass he just picked rain down from his hand down atop his legs. A few stray pieces slip through the hole near the knee in his jeans, tickling the sensitive skin. Keith doesn’t laugh.

“Why wouldn’t I come?” Shiro asks, dropping his satchel to the grass, followed moments later by his robe. He leaves his tie on today and Keith finds his eyes drawn to the subtle bob of Shiro’s adams apple as it moves beneath the starched collar of his white shirt.

“Dunno,” Keith says with a shrug of his shoulders.

Shiro sits cross-legged in front of Keith, the material of his trousers tightening on his thighs as the hem pulls up to show off that Shiro’s socks are bright yellow today. He nudges Keith’s knee with his foot until Keith lifts his head to look at him.

“Tell me. _Please_.”

“I heard you talking to Adam in the corridors after breakfast.” Keith wishes he still had his robe on so he didn't feel quite so exposed. He wants something to hide beneath.

“And?” Shiro asks, fisting his hands in the grass and pulling out twice as much as Keith had, moving his hands above Keith’s head and letting it rain down on his hair.

“Well, it’s _Adam_.”

Shiro widens his eyes eyebrows exaggeratedly as if he has no idea what Keith means and Keith frowns. Apparently Shiro is going to make him say it.

“And,” Keith grumbles, shaking his head. “He asked you to study. I just figured that’s where you’d be. I know you care about him. You dated for two years.” Keith brushes the rest of the fallen grass from his legs and turns his gaze back to the ground unable to look at Shiro.

“Yeah, we did. But I think the operative word in all this is _dated_. As in past tense. You know we’re only friends now.” Shiro moves closer to Keith, slowly, as if he were approaching a wild Hippogriff. Keith’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry at how well Shiro can read him. “You thought I’d pick Adam over you? You thought I wouldn’t show up today and you still came?”

Keith shrugs his shoulders, reaching down to fist his hands in the sun warmed grass again. He grips it too hard, fingers digging deep into the roots dirt caking under his nails.

“Too bad you stopped eavesdropping before you heard the best part then.”

Keith’s head shoots up. “Hey, I wasn’t eavesdropping! I was just walking. It’s not my fault everyone here talks so loud. Especially Adam.”

Shiro snorts and shakes his head making the floof in front fall into his eyes. “Says you, the noisiest human alive. You love that everyone talks loudly, that's how you always know everyone else’s business.”

Keith’s mouth falls open. “I am not nosy!”

Shiro leans forward, hands falling into the grass near Keith's as Shiro leans his head in. He’s fighting back a smile, eyes crinkled as he fights to keep himself from laughing and he’s so close Keith can smell the peppermint of his toothpaste and the musky scent of his shampoo. Shiro reaches out and twists his finger in the loose fabric of his Gryffindor t-shirt. “Yes, you are, Red.”

“Oh fuck off,” Keith says without an ounce of anger, yanking hard on the roots to loosen them before throwing a fistful of the grass at Shiro’s face.

Shiro splutters before he throws his head back and laughs, falling back onto his arse as he moves his hand up to ruffle his hair and shake out the bits of grass stuck in it.

Keith can’t hold back his own laughter as Shiro pouts at his inability to remove all the blades. There's something about being with Shiro that makes everything feel easier, even being himself.

“So what exactly did I miss?” Keith asks a minute later when he’s able to stop laughing and catch his breath.

“I told him I was busy. That I had something else more important to do.” Shiro begins to fiddle with his tie, losing the not and undoing the top button on his collar. The hollow of his throat is visible as he tugs harder, pulling the tie loose until he can lift it off over his head and tossing it on top of his discarded robe.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Keith asks, unable to take his eyes off of Shiro. For a moment it's as if time stands still. Shiro’s eyes are so open, his chest rising and falling slowly as he licks his lips and studies Keith clearly weighing his next words carefully.

“Beat your arse at a seekers game. The loser has to polish the brooms,” Shiro says unexpectedly, rising to his feet and taking off at a sprint to the broom shed. Keith’s not sure what he expected Shiro to say but it wasn’t that.

“Cheater! Get back here, Shirogane!” Keith hollars, on his feet and chasing after Shiro in two seconds flat. Keith hates polishing brooms almost as much as he hates losing.

“Not cheating if there are no rules!” Shiro yells back, trying to run faster. Despite the fact that his stride is longer, Keith overtakes him in no time. Shiro might by faster than him up in the air, but Keith’s faster on his own two feet.

Keith grins as he passes Shiro, giving him the two finger salute as he sprints past him.

“I’m still gonna beat you, Kogane!” he shouts, voice alight with excitement.

“I’d like to see you try!” Keith answers.

Shiro’s resounding laughter echoes through the air.

 

 

**_________**

 

 

It’s a particularly cold day even for late September and Keith can already feel autumn making its way onto the grounds and insisting it’s presence be known. In front of him, the Quidditch pitch is dusted in a sheen of half-dead leaves which crunch beneath his boots as he approaches.

Keith’s not ready for darker evenings and the new chill in the air.

“What happened to your eye?” Shiro asks the second Keith is within his line of sight. Shiro’s bundled up for the chill in the air today, his Hufflepuff scarf wrapped securely around his neck and tucked into his robes and a pair of woolen gloves on his hands. His Head Boy badge glimmers in the fading afternoon sun.

Keith shrugs, glancing down at his muck covered boots before daring at glance at Shiro. “Nothing.”

“Nothing, my arse. It looks like your face was on the losing end of a Wizard’s Duel.” Shiro frowns, closing the distance between them in just a few steps.

Keith wants to laugh but he’s afraid it might hurt so he forces his face to remain neutral. Besides, he doesn’t want Shiro to know it hurts as bad as it probably looks. The last thing he wants or needs is pity, especially from Shiro.

“You’re not far off.” It wasn’t a duel, because that would've required them agree to fight when whats closer to the truth was that they’d had a bit of screaming match before James Griffin had tried to hex Keith, who’d thrown his wand to the side and punched him square in the nose. Afterward, their wands had been tossed aside in favor of seeing who could do the most damage with their fists since they were both Muggleborn and far more adept at hand-to-hand than most of the wizards at Hogwarts.

“Bloody hell, Keith. You’ve got to stop getting into fights.”

“It’s not like I go looking for trouble!” Keith shouts louder than he means to. He exhales slowly, forcing himself to inhale a deep breath to relax his nerves. Keith might be mad at the world but he isn’t mad Shiro. “Besides if someone else starts a fight I sure as fuck am going to defend myself.”

Shiro sighs heavily. “I know that. I just...I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

There it is again, that painful twist in his chest. Everyone else looks at Keith’s fighting in light of the trouble it causes them, or the trouble he’s getting into. Not one person has ever cared about Keith getting hurt. Not like this. As if it were about Keith and not them.

Keith swallows the lump in his throat.

“I’m fine. You should see the other guy.”

He allows himself a small smile thinking about Griffin and the double black eye he’s sporting back in the Gryffindor common room nursing both his physical injures and his wounded pride. Keith knows he’s likely to get a week’s detention for it and he doesn't care. Serves Griffin right for making fun of Keith for being an orphan anyway the sanctimonious arsehole.

“You know you can ask for help if you need it.”

“If I need it I will,” he says honestly. This is not a lie since as far as Keith’s concerned he never needs helps.

“Why didn’t you go see the school nurse anyway?” Shiro asks, lifting his hand and ghosting it across the nasty bruise Keith knows must be blooming there by now. The wool is rough against Keith’s cheek and he winces loudly. Shiro yanks his hand back and winces in sympathy.

“ _Well_?”

Keith sucks both of his lips into his mouth refusing to answer, biting them hard enough it hurts.

“Keith?”

Keith still doesn’t answer.

“You’re not going to tell me what happened are you?” Shiro asks, sounding frustrated. Keith waits for it, waits for the moment Shiro realises Keith is too much trouble and turns around and walks away.

Keith shakes his head. “No, because as Head Boy you’ll feel obligated to do something about it and I don’t need help. I can’t handle my own problems.”

“I don’t feel obligated to help you because I’m Head Boy.”

Keith nervously pulls at the strings on the end of his own scarf as he watches Shiro.

“I don’t feel obligated to do anything for you. The things I do, spending time with you, flying together, wanting to help you when something is wrong, I do those because you’re important to me. You’re my friend.”

Keith doesn't say anything, unsure what he can say to that.

 _You’re all that and more_ , feels like too much for Keith to say. Shiro is his friend. Shiro is everything. And Keith is...not enough, or too much—he sometimes not sure which it is. Truthfully, Keith’s not sure how he can feel like not enough and all at once but he does and he fucking hates it.

“Friends,” Keith echoes when Shiro reaches out to tap the side of his wand against Keith’s face. He whispers a spell Keith doesn’t recognize and almost instantly the sting is gone. Shiro’s always been good at Healing spells. He’s always been good at everything. “Thanks,” he whispers.

Shiro blinks and then before Keith knows what is happening he’s being pulled into a hug. Shiro’s arms are strong, his chest solid and warm and Keith buries his face in Shiro’s neck and closes his eyes against the prickle of wetness he feels building at the corner of his eyes. His throat tightens as he tries to remember the last person that had hugged him.

“How many times you gonna patch me up?” Keith mumbles, embarrassed at how tightly his hands fist into the back of Shiro’s robes. His only consolation is that Shiro is hugging him just as tightly, no signs of releasing Keith either.

“As many times as it takes,” Shiro answers.

 

**_________**

 

 

The rain is pouring down hard enough that Keith can barely see, heavy pellets splattering and the Impervius charm he’d cast on his and Shiro’s Quidditch goggles before they’d begun to fly today has long been rendered useless.

Despite the rain, Shiro is showing no signs of quitting, which means neither is Keith. It’s one of the things Keith likes best about Shiro. He doesn’t quit anything, and never underestimates Keith, always giving it his all as if he views Keith as capable—as someone who can keep up with him.

He never takes it easy on Keith because he feels sorry for him or doubts his ability, but neither does he play unfairly or take advantage of the gaps in Keith’s flying experience or knowledge. Keith has lost count of the number of students or professors in life assuming he isn’t capable of something, or trying to give him the easy way out because he’s had a rough go of it and they feel sorry for him.

Keith knows what he can handle and he wishes other people would respect him enough to find out before assuming for themselves. Shiro though... from day one, Shiro let Keith decide what he could handle and what he was capable of and trusted Keith to know his limits.t’s something Keith thinks about a lot.

Keith has spent most of his life rallying against the labels people place on him—orphan, troubled, Gryffindor—as if those things define him. He’s never felt like anyone’s equal because no one has ever left him show exactly what he can handle. People have been telling him who he is and what he can handle since the day he was born.

Keith might not be quite as good of a flyer as Shiro, isn’t on his level yet. But he’s damn good and he knows it, and so does Shiro. Keith likes the flame of pride it ignites in his chest. Besides, he can’t help but think that if they keep this up he might be just as good as Shiro is by the time Shiro graduates. He can’t help but wonder if that’s Shiro’s goal, to train Keith to be able to play Quidditch professionally without ever telling Keith it's what he’s doing. It’s a bit sneaky for a Hufflepuff and Keith likes him more for it.

Up in the air, flying against Shiro, Keith feels as if perhaps he is Shiro’s equal.

It’s a good feeling, right up there with the way Keith feels when he lifts up into the air on his broom or the way his upside down and off-centered life had slotted into place the day he’d got his Hogwarts letter and learned that he wasn’t a freak or a weirdo—that there were people like him.

These are the feelings Keith keeps locked up in his heart, secure as a well cast _Alohomora_.

These are the images that float through his mind when he rifles through his life experiences to hand pick his happiest memories to cast a Patronus in Defense Against the Dark Arts—the day he’d got his Hogwarts letter, the first time he’d successfully cast a spell, the first time he’d flown, and the way he feels when Shiro smiles at him.

These are the things that make Keith feel centered and happy.

These are the memories Keith fights for.

Hard as it is for Keith to admit, over the last few months their weekly seekers games have come to mean more to him than anything else in his life. He’s spent years at Hogwarts, years belonging to his house and trying to fit in and make memories but nothing has felt as right as the time he spends up in the air flying with Shiro. Up there, the prejudices of the Wizarding world and Hogwarts fall away. He’s not only a Gryffindor or a orphan, he’s just Keith.

Shiro hasn’t said as much but sometimes Keith wonders if perhaps these games are as much for Shiro as they are for Keith. He’s not sure what exactly it is Shiro gets out of them, but the idea that something about Keith is something that makes Shiro happy makes him feel as if he could fly without his broom. It’s a heady feeling that’s as euphoric as it is terrifying.

“Where the fuck is the Snitch?” Shiro yells, startling Keith from his thoughts as he pulls his broom up alongside Keith.

Keith snickers. He’s not sure why it had surprised so much to learn that Shiro has a filthy mouth, maybe because it’s such a juxtaposition to his charming smile and calm demeanor and the shiny Head Boy badge he’s always sporting. He knows Shiro keeps it in check most of the time, only lets the words fly from his mouth like that when he’s particularly excited or relaxed, and Keith loves it. It makes him feel better about his own inability to speak without saying fuck every few minutes.

“Not a fucking clue,” he says, earning himself a grin from Shiro who shoves his own goggles up his head. They push the hair off his forehead as he blinks the water from his eyes.

“You wanna give up?” Shiro asks.

“Not a fucking chance,” Keith says, ignoring his wet toes and the fact that his arse is colder than a pack of ice mice.

It doesn’t seem to matter that they’ve been circling the pitch for over an hour without a single sighting of the Snitch. It doesn’t matter that the rain had long ago soaked through Keith’s robes and the inside of his boots feel damp and sloshy like he’d stepped into the Great Lake. It doesn’t matter that his stomach is making its displeasure at him having skipped breakfast and lunch known.

All that matters is this—the game—right now.

It doesn’t matter that’s it not even really a game because there are no prizes to be won aside from bragging rights, and neither of them seem to brag anyway.

A flash of gold out of the corner of his eye has Keith turning his broom on a Sickle, but he’s not the only one who’s seen it. Shiro is right beside him already zipping towards the middle of the pitch, his broom heading straight for the snitch. Keith would be mad that Shiro spotted it half a second before him if he were so fucking impressed by Shiro's natural instincts and flying ability. The only thing Keith likes more than flying with Shiro is watching him fly.

Keith is pretty certain that he doesn't stand a chance at catching the Snitch. Shiro is closer, a good broom length ahead of him already, but all the same Keith gives it his all. He yanks the goggles from his head and tosses them aside in favor of trying to see for himself without the failing charmed monstrosities that are doing nothing more than giving Keith a headache.

Keith tilts forward a bit too much, fumbling on his broom and barely managing to right himself as he heads towards the ground. In the short few seconds it’s taken him to regain his footing, Shiro’s got an even bigger lead on him now closing in on the Snitch. Even through the downpour, Keith can see the moment Shiro’s long fingers reach out and wrap around the fluttering golden wings.

Shiro pulls up just in time, leaping to the ground with a splatter as he lands in a puddle. He doesn’t seem to care though, his arm throw up triumphantly as he _whoops_ his excitement. It’s hard to be disappointed about losing when Shiro looks so happy.

It’s only a few seconds before Keith is standing beside Shiro, his own boots ankle deep in the mud as he claps Shiro on the back.

“Well done, Shiro.”

Shiro beams, his hand reaching out towards Keith. Shiro’s fingers are cold as ice as they slide against Keith’s and it takes Keith a moment to process the fact that the golden snitch is being pressed into his hand.

“What are you doing?” Keith asks, turning the Snitch over and staring at it as if he’s never seen one before.

Shiro leans in close, brushing the fringe that’s plastered across Keith’s forehead away as he looms over him. “Giving it to you,” he says as if that explains everything.

“Why?”

Shiro’s nose wrinkles as he laughs. “Fuck, you’re cute.”

“Cute?” Keith chokes out, his cheeks warming as he puffs out his cheeks with a heavy breath. “I’ll show you cute!” he shouts, shoving the Snitch in his pocket as he lunges forward and attempts to knock Shiro to the ground. Shiro grabs ahold of Keith around the waist and takes him with him, and Keith lands hard atop Shiro’s chest.

“Fuck,” Shiro huffs looking surprised.

Keith doesn’t waste a moment, scrambling up onto his knees and scooting back. Keith’s pretty sure it's only the fact that he has the element of surprise that allows him to pin Shiro to ground.

Shiro blinks up at him with a bemused smile as Keith straddles his waist, each of his hands wrapped securely around one of Shiro’s wrists as he presses them down into the grass which squashes beneath them. Shiro’s hair and the tips of Keith’s fingers now caked in mud, not that either of them seem to care.

“Still think I’m cute?” Keith challenges as he leans over Shiro. The rise and fall of Shiro’s chest is visible even beneath his thick Quidditch robes and Keith can feel the erratic racing of Shiro’s pulse beneath Keith’s thumb which is pressed to the inside of Shiro’s wrist.

His own body is blocking Shiro’s face from the downpour, but rivulets still fall from Keith’s hair and rain down upon Shiro, cascading down his cheeks and sharp jawline as he stares at Keith.

“Yes,” Shiro answers, unmoving. Keith knows Shiro could be out from under him in less time than it took Keith to get Griffin in a Full Body Bind last month, knows that the power he feels right now is all an illusion, and that Shiro is giving it to him.

Shiro is letting Keith have control, letting him set the pace. Shiro is letting Keith decide what he wants and what he’s comfortable with.

It hits Keith then with the force of a strong Confringo that Shiro has been doing that all along. The pieces slot together like a puzzle. The broom. The weekly Seeker meetings. The stack of letters Shiro hands him at the start of each term that he wrote Keith over the summer, even though Keith couldn’t receive owl mail at the orphanage over the summer. The Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans he always keeps in his pocket when they study together on Saturdays, even though only Keith likes them. The smile and wave Shiro sends him every morning the second Keith enters the Great Hall, as if Shiro has been waiting for him. The Snitch fluttering wildly in his pocket, a symbol of so much more than Shiro’s victory today.

Fuck. Shiro likes him. Like really likes him.

Takashi Shirogane fancies him.

Shiro hasn’t said the words, but Keith is smart enough to put all the pieces together now. Shiro might not have said it out loud but he’s been saying it in a million Shiro ways for, fuck—for longer than Keith can even imagine.

Shiro has been showing Keith in every way that Keith is important to him, while letting Keith decide what to do with that information on his own and never asking for anything in return except for Keith’s friendship.

“I think I might be in love you,” Keith blurts out, releasing his hold on Shiro’s wrists and shimmying his knees and arse down until his chest is pressed to Shiro’s and he’s leaning on his elbows, face just a few inches from the other boy’s.

“You think?” Shiro whispers, licking his lips as he lifts a hand to cup the side of Keith’s face.

“No,” Keith answers and for one painstaking moment Shiro’s face falls. “No!” he shouts again, hands on the side of Shiro’s fair as his heart beats so loudly it even dulls out of the sound of the rain pouring down around them. “I mean I don’t think. I know. I love you. I’m in love with you. Have been for a long time.”

Keith’s entire body shakes and whether it's from the rain or the cold or the fact that he’s just told someone he loves them for the first time in his entire life, he doesn’t know. He supposes maybe he told his parents he loved them when he was little, but he can’t remember and there’s no one left who knows him before he went to the orphanage to tell him so as far as Keith knows Shiro is the first person he’s ever loved in any capacity.

“I love you, too,” Shiro exhales, letting his hand slide from Keith’s cheek to the back of his head as he urges him down for a kiss. Shiro’s lips are cold and kissing while it pisses down like cats and dogs isn’t exactly ideal, especially when Keith can barely breathe through his nose without inhaling water. But it’s perfect just the same because it’s Shiro kissing him, and Shiro’s finger’s tangling in his sopping wet hair, and Shiro’s body trembling beneath him.

“We should probably go inside,” Shiro murmurs in between kisses, his hands beginning to shake harder. “It’s freezing.”

“Don’t care. Don’t wanna move,” Keith says, pressing his nose into the side of Shiro’s face. Keith’s not ready to face the rest of the school yet. Just for now, for one more small moment in time, he wants to pretend that he and Shiro are the only ones that matter.

“Lazy fucker,” Shiro laughs, pressing a kiss to the side of Keith’s head that makes the racing of Keith’s heart slow enough for him to catch his breath.

“I don't want you to leave,” Keith whispers, unsure if he means right now or at the end of term—aware both are inevitable.

“I might have to go, but I won’t ever leave you. Not really.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Shiro agrees. Then he’s nudging the side of Keith’s face with his nose, drops of water running into Keith’s mouth as he opens it to ask Shiro what he’s doing, but instead Shiro simply kisses him again.

Shiro’s lips are soft, his breath warm and his movements gentle as he deepens the kiss apparently deciding they’re fine where they are and Keith lets out a hum of content as he fists his own hands in Shiro’s much shorter hair.

“I love you,” Shiro whispers again into Keith’s mouth and Keith can’t help but think that he might’ve lost their game, but he won anyway.

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://teamtakashi.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/goldentruth813). <3


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